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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25559440">Nightmares</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Ryder/pseuds/Wind_Ryder'>Wind_Ryder</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Methuselah's Children [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Coping, Found Families, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Nightmares</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:02:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,859</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25559440</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Ryder/pseuds/Wind_Ryder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicky wakes in the middle of the night to the sound of a child crying out in their sleep. </p><p>It's the first week since they found Edward and Richard locked in the Bloody Tower. Trust isn't easy to earn, especially from a child who's already seen the worst the world has to offer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Methuselah's Children [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839811</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>604</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>NF</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Nightmares</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Although most stories in this series can be read independently, you should read The Briar Patch prior to this one.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nicolo always had nightmares. When he was a child, he used to dream of his father beating his mother until she stopped moving. Then he’d come in and wrap his hands around Nicolo’s throat and squeeze the life out of him until he woke up crying. The nightmares didn’t fade as he grew older, just took different shape. Different form. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immortality showed him whole new horrors that he’d never envisioned. Sometimes they snuck up on him just to give him a proper thrill. He’d wake, screaming, kicking and thrashing until Yusuf caught his hands and held him close. Other times, Nicolo would wake between one breath and the next. His body frozen, throat immobile. He couldn’t move. Often, he couldn’t even open his eyes or separate his jaw. He’d lay like that for hours until Yusuf moved in his sleep, or the sun came up and unlocked his body with a key made just for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those times terrified him the most. After all, to the rest of the world: he appeared to be just sleeping. Maria-Theresa used to tell him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dreams are dreams, we live to correct them and ensure they do not happen. They cannot hurt you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria-Theresa meant well, but Maria-Theresa never knew the kinds of dreams he’d be dreaming. Nor what kind of life he would be living. Dreams absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>hurt. And they left marks that sometimes would never be healed. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Nicolo wakes late in the night. It’s dark outside. The moon is high and the woods around the house are screaming with the sounds of life. He can move. It wasn’t his own dream that woke him. Nor was it Yusuf, quiet and sweet at his side. Still, his ears chase the echo of a sound he knows he heard. It happens again, and Nicolo slips from the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t need a candle to navigate the bedroom, but he lights one despite the familiarity. Yusuf sits up. He calls his name, but Nicolo doesn’t answer. He steps into the hall and crosses over to the other side. Knocking once, he opens the door and peers in. Edward and Richard are tangled in each other’s arms on the same bed. Edward isn’t moving, but Richard is. He’s squirming and kicking, crying in his sleep. He clings and thrashes against Edward, but Edward just lays there like a doll: accepting the blows and staying by his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edward’s bright eyes slide toward Nicolo as he approaches. “How long?” Nicolo whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not long,” the boy says. “I’m sorry he woke you. We’ll be quiet. I promise.” It’s not a promise he can keep, and even as he says it Richard cries out and thrashes in Edward’s embrace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kneeling by the bedside, Nicolo sets his candle on the table next to the bed. “Does he dream often?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” It’s a lie. Most everything Nicolo asks Edward is met with lies. He’s a good brother first, a terrible liar second. It makes it easier to understand, though. Nicolo nods at Edward and casts a look around. The blankets are tangling badly around them both. The fire has long since gone cold in their hearth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I fix the bedding? And the fire? It may help.” Sometimes Edward tells him to do whatever he thinks is best. He watches Nicolo and Yusuf with narrow eyed suspicion, waiting for them to instill a punishment or reprimand that fits into his understanding of the world. Nicolo’s been working on asking questions anyway, hoping that one day Edward will tell him what he really wants so Nicolo won’t have to guess. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Caught as Richard’s lone protector late at night, Edward defaults to his usual pattern. Appease the adult, always. “It’s fine,” Edward says. “We’ll be fine. Sorry to disturb you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—Edward,” Yusuf murmurs from the door. It is one adult too many. Edward flinches hard, tugging Richard upright. The poor boy finally wakes, eyes blinking madly as his brother hoists him up against his chest. They sit, still as stone at the head of the bed. Neither speaks. Yusuf sighs heavily. He mutters, “I’m going to get some water,” and leaves again. Light fills the hall as he goes, lanterns glowing hot under his care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Richard,” Nicolo greets when the boy’s wet eyes land on him. Immediately the boy hides, burrowing close to his brother’s body, sniffling against his nightshirt. Nicolo tries to remember what Maria-Theresa used to do for him when she woke him in the night. She’d hug him, but the boys are too nervous for that. She’d sing to him, but Nicolo knows few songs they’d appreciate. Sometimes she’d tell him stories, but he has no books and is a poor orator. In spite of her fine examples, he can only say, “I have dreams too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard peaks up from where he squirreled himself. His cheeks are wet and he’s biting his lower lip. “About what?” he asks quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richard!” Edward hisses, but Nicolo forces a smile to his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s allowed to ask, you are too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edward isn’t interested in Nicolo’s kindness. He repeats: “It’s late, we shouldn’t be bothering you. We didn’t mean to keep you from sleep. We’re sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You...you have nothing to be sorry for, Edward. You’ve done nothing wrong.” Nicolo’s fingers flex. He wants to reach out and touch their fine blonde hair. He wants to chase away their demons. Edward looks blankly at him over the top of his brother’s head. He doesn’t scowl. Doesn’t show any kind of emotion at all. Just a blank eyed stare, and a watchfulness that burns Nicolo’s heart. “I...I’ve always had bad dreams,” he presses on, not sure if he’s doing more harm than good. Richard shifts in Edward’s grasp. His big eyes belong on an owl, not a child. He blinks so slowly, Nicolo panics a little. He talks faster, and he wishes Yusuf will return soon. “Sometimes about my father, and later - the war—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—what war?” Edward asks, sharp as a blade in the night. Nicolo flounders awkwardly. Regret fills him. He glances at the door, but Yusuf still hasn’t returned. He doesn’t want to lie, but if he tells them...what then? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A war long ago,” he tries. Edward opens his mouth to press, but then, just as decisively, closes it. He hugs his brother tighter and Richard squirms at the pressure. He’s taken Nicolo’s deflection at face value, and made his own conclusions. The evasion lost any trust that might have been building, or might </span>
  <em>
    <span>be </span>
  </em>
  <span>built. Nicolo bites his lip. He looks back at the door. He curses softly and prays Yusuf will understand. “I was in Syria, fighting for the Holy Land.” </span>
  <span>Richard’s charmed by the idea. He gasps loudly, tugging at his brother’s arm so he can wriggle himself upright and get a better look at Nicolo’s face. Edward’s brows dip down and his eyes narrow. “It was a very long time ago, but it is where I met Yusuf.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those wars ended after Acre fell,” Edward says, clear and distinct, he jerks Richard back into place. For all his attempts at not angering a prospective captor, he’s a child still. A child who had been raised to be King. He knew his history, and he knew it well. Nicolo cannot help but smile at the boy’s intelligence. It’s so blindingly obvious he would have flourished in his crown. If only Gloucester had given him a chance. “There have been no fights there since 1291,” Edward continues savagely, glaring at Nicolo as if daring him to lie again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you’re right. I did say it was a long time ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You</span>
  </em>
  <span> fought in </span>
  <em>
    <span>1291?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richard asks, tugging at Edward’s arm with decisive enthusiasm. Whatever his nightmare had been of, Nicolo’s story seems far more interesting. He sits up fully, propping himself on Edward’s lap and leaning closer to Nicolo. Edward’s panic is obvious. He tries to grab at his brother in a subtle way, but Richard resists Edward’s attempts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not then, no. I fought in the very first crusade. And Yusuf did too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s impossible,” Edward declares, but he’s lost his kingly assertiveness. He’s replaced it with the tentative authority of a prince not quite sure if he’s absolutely certain, but willing to give it a try. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not,” Yusuf says gently as he </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally </span>
  </em>
  <span>returns. He’s got a few cups tucked under his arm and a fresh pitcher of water in one hand. The other holds a candle that he uses to light all the lanterns in the boys’ room. When he finishes, everything is cast in a warm glow and Richard’s sitting up properly at Edward’s side. He accepts the cup with both hands, and thanks Yusuf sweetly when he takes his first sip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edward accepts his with a muffled word of gratitude, but his brow is still furrowed. He thinks he’s being lied to, but he can’t work out the purpose. Nicolo understands that very well. “No one lives that long,” he mumbles as he takes a sip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We do,” Nicolo says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you faeries?” Richard asks. He sounds far too excited by the prospect, and Edward hisses for him to be quiet, but it makes Yusuf laugh as he sits on the edge of their bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Faeries?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he asks them. “You think faeries would bless the likes of us with long life?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little boy thinks about it very seriously, his bottom lip protruding as he considers the question. “Yes,” he decides. “You don’t look like very nice people, and that seems the sort of thing the faeries would do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Richard!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Edward’s horror gets lost as Yusuf throws his head back and cackles with unrestrained laughter. Tears spring to Yusuf’s eyes as the joy washes through him and Nicolo can’t help but laugh as well. He covers his mouth with the back of his hand, delighted at Yusuf’s amusement, but even more delighted when he sees how pleased Richard looks at causing the reaction. Edward keeps looking between them as if now is the moment they’ll reveal themselves as the brutes he’s imagined they’ll be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, Yusuf settles down and bows his head to the little prince. “You seem to have the long and short of it right there, young master.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mama says the fae-folk are...are...what’s that word?” Richard asks his brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Capricious,” Edward fills in with such begrudging despair, Nicolo’s heart aches for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cap-ree-shuss,” Richard pronounces. “Did you get...caprisheed? Um. Capricioused?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a way I suppose you are right,” Nicolo replies. “We do not know why we are this way, only that we are. We have lived a very long time, and will live far longer than even you. But it means...while we are here, we will not let anything happen to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard’s face is a mask of wonder. He drinks his water and stares up at them with such awe. “Will you tell us about it?” he asks shly. He’s finished his drink, so Yusuf takes the cup and sets it to the side. He fixes the bedding around the boys and guides Richard to lay back against the pillows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about I tell you a story my mother once read to me?” he asks. Richard is immediately captivated. He listens with rapt attention. His wide eyes never once leaving Yusuf’s face. Yusuf spins a tale filled with magic and wonder. He describes the places of his birth and the lands beyond the desert. He tells two banished princes the story of a lion-king and his wicked jackal-vizier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes nearly an hour before the little boy’s eyes start to droop. He snuggles back against his brother’s side and slips to sleep somewhere between the lion discovering the jackal’s plans, and the final fate of the wicked beast. Edward is still wide awake, one arm wrapped around his brother’s shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yusuf pauses his recitation when he sees Richard so thoroughly and peacefully sleeping. “It was kind...to do this,” Edward murmurs, just loud enough to be heard without disturbing his brother. “Thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>feeling any better?” Nicolo asks. Edward didn’t move once the whole story. In fact, he hardly seemed to be listening. He kept looking between Nicolo and Yusuf, as if trying to work out the answer to a question he didn’t know how to ask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can make him believe,” Edward says, “But not me. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>better. I’m not a child.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yusuf sighs. He plucks the candle holder from the table and holds it out in front of Edward. “Watch,” he says. Then, slowly, he lowers his hand to the flame. Edward’s eyes widen. He jerks in surprise, nearly dislodging his brother who sleeps on despite Edward’s alarm. When Yusuf lifts his palm, it’s badly burned. The smell fills the room, choking and awful. Nicolo flinches as a memory of a child burning in his arms reaches back from years past and threatens to choke him alive. Yusuf holds his palm out for Edward to watch, and he stares dumbly as the wound heals itself one piece at a time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy’s lips tremble. He reaches out and touches Yusuf’s palm with his fingers. Tracing over the unbroken skin with such a delicate touch. He glances at the candle, certain of a trick, but Yusuf pulls it away from him before he can think about it. “Do you promise to pull back if it hurts?” he asks, stern and uncompromising. “Because your hand won’t heal like mine.” Edward nods, and the candle is brought back to his reach. With hesitating fingers, Edward approaches the flame. He lets the heat warm his skin. Lets the wick lick against his palm, and as soon as the fire touches him he hisses and withdraws. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sound pulls itself up from Nicolo’s throat, but Yusuf is there. He places the candle back on the side table and cradle’s Edward’s palm between his hands. He looks it over with a practiced eye. There’s no mark. He’d only been surprised not harmed. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>fought in the crusades?” Edward asks them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We tried to kill each other,” Nicolo replies. He stands up, knees aching momentarily before righting themselves. He refills one of the cups with cool water and hands it to Edward. “Hold it, it will help.” He does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you save us?” Edward asks. It’s a question he must have been wanting an answer for since they first arrived. For months, this boy has received nothing but pain and misery, isolation and the constant threat of death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did not deserve what happened to you,” Nicolo replies. He kneels again, this time on Edward’s side of the bed. He gently places a hand on Edward’s knee. “We heard...stories. Terrible stories. And you are children. That Tower is no place for children.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re princes. The throne...my uncle…” he doesn’t seem to know where he wants to start or stop. He finally, finally, acts like the thirteen year old child he actually is. He squeezes his water cup and tears form at his eyes. He sniffles and rubs the back of his hand over his face before letting his arm return to its place as Richard’s ever present guardian. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yusuf sighs heavily. “Last week, you were locked in a tower while the guards outside your door waited to smother you in your sleep. This week, you are here. Your belly is full, your room is warm, and you have no guards plotting your demise. Who can say where you will be next week? For now, sleep. You have time to decide what you want to do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My mother...sisters…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re still in sanctuary. They are safe for now.” Edward shivers a little, but nods at the news. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m supposed to be king,” Edward says softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we were supposed to die in 1099,” Nicolo says in turn. Edward meets his eyes. “Sometimes our life does not follow the plan as it is written. Sometimes we only know what is going to happen next, when it actually happens.” </span>
  <span>Edward bites his lip. He nods. Hugs his brother close. “Would you like us to leave?” Nicolo asks. He suspects he knows the answer, and is already starting to stand when Edward shakes his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you stay?” He whispers into Richard’s hair. “I don’t like being alone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yusuf squeezes the boy’s ankle under the covers and stands. He moves to the other side of the bed and sits down. “We don’t like being alone either,” he reveals as Nicolo sits beside Edward and wraps an arm around his shoulders. The boy hesitates, then tucks his head against Nicolo’s side. Yusuf slithers his arm over top of Nicolo’s so together they cradle the children between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicolo’s well used to nightmares, but that night, he didn’t dream of anything at all. And the children slept through until late morning. It was the longest any of them had slept in a long while. And at least for now, when the dark became too dark to face on their own, they all had a plan. Now, and in the future: they would never again face their demons alone. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You can find/prompt me at falcon-fox-and-coyote.tumblr.com</p></blockquote></div></div>
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